//at* 


THE  GOD  IN 
YOUR  HOME 

By 

Mrs.  E.  C.  Cronk 


THE  INTERCHURCH  WORLD  MOVEMENT 

OF  NORTH  AMERICA 

111  Fifth  Avenue  New  York  City 


Price : 2 cents  each,  20  cents 
per  dozen,  $1.00  per  hundred 


THE  GOD  IN  YOUR  HOME 


[HE  was  a dainty  slip  of  a Japanese 
k girl.  Her  bright,  wondering,  almond 

' eyes  looked  out  in  interested  query  at 

all  things  in  the  great,  wonderful  America. 
Eagerly  she  studied  at  the  American  College. 
The  girls  called  her  Cherry  Blossom,  for  she 
seemed  like  a bloom  from  her  favorite  cherry 
tree,  blown  across  the  ocean  by  a wind  from 
her  own  Sunrise  Land.  “She  fairly  absorbs 
knowledge  and  adopts  our  American  customs 
in  the  most  charming  way,”  wrote  Ethel 
Clarkson  to  her  mother,  when  she  was 
begging  permission  to  bring  Cherry  Blossom 
home  with  her  for  the  holidays.  When 
Christmas  time  came,  dainty  little  Cherry 
Blossom  was  all  aglow  over  the  thought  of 
spending  the  holidays  with  Ethel  in  her 
beautiful  American  home.  She  had  been  in- 
side the  great  schools  and  colleges  in 
America.  She  had  seen  the  art  galleries  and 
the  public  buildings.  She  had  been  in  many 
churches,  but  the  thing  she  longed  most  of 
all  to  see,  on  the  inside,  was  a Christian 
home. 


That  first  Christmas  time  in  America  was  a 
wonderful  holiday  season  to  the  little  Cherry 
Blossom  from  Japan,  but  soon  the  last  of 
those  vacation  days  came.  Mrs.  Clarkson 
stood  in  her  library  with  her  hands  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  little  Japanese  girl  she  had 
learned  to  love  as  a daughter. 

“Now  tell  me  before  you  go,  you  dear 
little  Cherry  Blossom,”  she  asked  playfully, 
“how  you  like  the  way  we  American  folks 
live.  Are  you  homesick  for  a real,  genuine 
bow?  Are  you  weary  of  sitting  on  chairs, 
and  sleeping  in  beds,  and  wearing  shoes  all 
day  long  and  being  bothered  with  knives, 
forks  and  spoons?” 

The  girl  laughed  merrily. 


“Oh,  I love  it,”  she  said,  clapping  her 
hands.  “It  is  such  fun  trying  to  decide 
which  spoon  to  take  up  the  next  one.  Your 
home  is  wonderful.” 

Then  her  eyes  grew  suddenly  wistful. 

“But — she  said,  and  hesitated. 

“But  what.”  said  Mrs.  Clarkson  encourag- 
ingly. 

“There’s  one  thing  I miss,”  said  the  girl, 
with  a far  away  look  in  her  eyes,  “that  makes 
your  home  seem  queer  to  me.  You  know  I 
have  been  with  you  to  your  church  and  I 
have  seen  you  worship  your  God  there.  But 
I have  missed  the  God  in  your  home.  You 
know,  in  Japan  we  have  a god-shelf  in  every 
house  with  the  gods  right  there  in  our 
homes.  Do  not  any  Americans  worship  their 
God  in  their  homes?” 

All  during  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Clarkson  was 
strangely  silent.  The  innocent  question  of 
her  departing  Japanese  guest  had  gone 
straight  to  her  heart  with  an  overwhelming 
accusation.  Back  over  the  busy  years  her 
thoughts  flew  io  those  days  when  she  first 
had  a home  of  her  own,  and  a time  and  a 
place  for  the  worship  of  God  in  her  home. 
Then  the  thousand  distractions  of  a large 
household  and  a busy  life  had  crowded  in, 
and  the  God  in  her  home  had  been  crowded 
out.  She  had  not  meant  that  it  should  be  so. 
As  she  thought  of  it  all  a great  longing  filled 
her  heart  and  the  light  of  a firm  conviction 
filled  her  eyes.  That  day  she  talked  with 
each  member  of  her  family  alone,  and  that 
night  the  altar  of  her  God  was  set  up  again 
in  her  home. 

There  it  was  that  the  little  Cherry  Blossom 
from  Japan  on  her  next  vacation  visit,  found 
the  God  in  that  home  and  gave  her  heart  to 
Him. 


No.  256.  I.  50.  Dec.  1919. 


